


a flicker beat of starlight, an eternity of darkness

by Mistropolis



Category: Cytus (Video Game), Cytus II (Video Game)
Genre: COME ON YOU GOTTA LET US KNOW THE REAL HER AT SOME POINT, Car Accidents, Gen, Lowercase, POV Second Person, Recovery, Spoilers, but also what are you doing playing cytus ii w/o checking in cytus first, of sorts, technically sad shit going down, there are kinda spoilers for cytus too, when is rayark going to tell us shit abt paff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistropolis/pseuds/Mistropolis
Summary: sometimes, forgetting might have been the best for everyone.





	a flicker beat of starlight, an eternity of darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is an impulse-written fic that is born as a direct result of Rayark informing us nothing about PAFF whatsoever. A lot of people are theorizing that she is an android, and I kinda want to play with that idea, resulting in this fic. Hope you enjoy it!!!

you adjust the collar of your dress a little bit, and helena laughs at the sight of it. “please, aroma, you don’t have to take everything that seriously.”

“but, we are going to a ball, right? i can’t, eh, like,” you look for words inside your still-immature catalogue of vocabulary, and you draw up blanks on the rows for reasoning and etiquettes. “leave this collar… rumpled, right?”

helena shakes her head, an upward curve on her rose-coloured lips. looks like she has applied too much lipstick again. “trust me, little sis. they don’t quite really care about your clothes and how you might present yourself as long as you look socially presentable. after all, what they’re after—”

“—is my voice. right.” you mentally store that information into your mind. you found that it is rather easy for you to forget such finite details, a fact that unsettles you to a degree. even if your most important purpose and mission right now are to sing and sing and sing, you shouldn’t be so forgetful.

“i get that as a kid, this must still seem demanding and unreasonably cruel, but… your voice is one of a kind. you have to remember that you, and only you, can do what they want.”

you heave a vexation-laden sigh, sure the inflexion in it is giving away your dissatisfaction. “fine. let’s just get there already.”

 

⚝

 

you brush aside the falling leaves as the two of you make your way on the boardwalk, the scent of autumn swirling in the air. “what people are attending that ball?”

“rich people, government officials, people from the a.r.c., that’s it i think.” helena replies, chewing a piece of pink bubblegum and blowing bubbles out. one big bubble. one small bubble. “nothing out of the ordinary, really.”

“so if that’s the case—”

a scalding note escapes helena’s lips before you can finish, a flash of panic in her face and a moment of darkness—

 

⚝

 

you feel an itch around the rims of your shoulders, and you struggle to scratch at them. lifting your fingers, however, feels like even the most herculean efforts cannot achieve. you stare down and look at your bandaged arms.

“what happened… big sis?” you call out quietly, but the bleached white walls of the room offer no response. the _tick tick tick_ of the clock continues, the IV _dot dot dot_ away to the metronome of your heartbeat.

that is the moment when an intense headache grows in your head all of a sudden, a searing pain that demands something out of you that you do not comprehend. it digs into every notch and cranny of your head, and you cannot cogitate on anything beyond _big sis big sis where are you where am i how did this happen_

“miss aroma white?”

you look up from your lap, and the claustrophobic backdrop of the room is now ornamented with a splash of a human being. the doctor? somebody like that? the blinding white flash of the robe they wear obstruct your failing eyesight. “yes?”

“do you remember what happened to you? the car crash?”

car crash? an accident? when did anything like that happen? you put a hand onto your forehead, feeling sweat dripping down along the curve of the patch of skin despite the air conditioning. when you shift your hand upper you feel the rough texture of the bandages.

“i see… it seems like a distinct possibility that you really have forgotten everything.”

“forgotten everything? what do you mean?”

“do you remember where you live? who are your parents? friends and families?”

thoughts race in your head at a breakneck pace, splashes of colors and snippets of sounds clipping to your nerves. there was someone yelling. someone? where were you even? how did you—

“helena… where is big sis helena?” you ask, realizing just now how weak and fragile your voice has become, a hoarse whisper like stones rapping against stones. “where is she?”

“she’s in another room, and she’s recovering rapidly, so please don’t worry.” the doctor replies, and you feel the stone lodged in your throat dissolving into relief.

the doctor’s face remains solemn. “however, seeing how you cannot answer any other question i have posed to you, and only show concern for your big sister… it looks like you don’t quite recall everything.”

the temporal peace you feel evaporates at that. “i can’t recall anything?”

“it seems that there is a possibility that you have sustained head injuries that causes traumatic amnesia. you only recall your big sister also being in the same accident as you, yet you cannot recall what happened to you yourself until you are prompted by my question on if you can remember any loved ones.”

you look down to your hospital gown, words all bubbles too big to escape your throat, and memories all shards too picayune for you to pick up and patch back together. the doctor heaves a sigh and gives you a noncommittal reminder to use the alarm button if you need anything, and then once again you are left alone, buried in the ashes of yesterdays.

 

⚝

 

helena is giving you the most forced smile you’ve ever seen in your life. well, what remains of it in your memories anyway. “aroma… little sis, i’m glad you’re okay.”

“helena big sis… did i ever have a parent or other loved ones?”

helena frowns. “any other loved ones? it has always been just the two of us. don’t you remember that?”

the knot inside your heart tightens. “but, but if that’s the case, how do i… ?”

“what is it? are you remembering something else?”

helena’s concerned looks are almost intimidating all of a sudden, an unspoken dare for you to be honest and _to remember_. but you can’t. no matter how much you’ve tried, no matter how many cul-de-sacs you have already run in and remember not to run in, you will always end up at the same conclusion; you can’t remember even an iota of what has happened before in your life.

you weep. tears holding your grief and sorrow leaking out, trying desperately to restore some equilibrium to you. you don’t want that back.

“... what more can i do? i’m just an empty, living thing that took up unnecessary space.”

“don’t you even dare say that!” helena grips your right shoulder all of a sudden, and she didn’t remember to release you until you yelp out in pain. “you still have a whole life ahead of you, aroma. don’t throw it away because something in the past is going to stick you in its roots.”

you sieve through the metaphors with little ease, and that only manages to pain you more. “but… what am i even good for in this state?”

“your voice, little sis. you might not remember this, but in the past your singing was the most superb. the best out here in node 08.” helena moves to wipe your tears away. “you have always been the best in it, haven’t you? we were all so proud of you, everything you have done for singing is the most beautiful and amazing thing imaginable.”

you no longer struggle against the coils buried inside you and screaming for you to let them spring free, your guilt receding into droplets of nothingness in the ocean of your mind. “my singing… i can really make my own future with it?”

“absolutely.” helena’s smile shines as radiantly as yours. “no matter what, as long as you keep your passionate singing, you can make the future you have always wanted. it’s like what i’ve always told you; even if the night becomes too unbearably dark, there will always be starlight to guide you. and your voice,” helena comes up and puts your right hand on her lap gently. “is the starlight that can guide you and all you’ve loved to our futures.”

you wipe away all of your tears yourself, smiling again for the very first time.

 

⚝

 

you hum to yourself most of the time when you’re not practising singing. melodies exist around you as long as you can remember, and even when you aren’t singing them out, they traverse your world in other ways.

“i’m home!” helena calls out from the doors, a multitude of groceries and whatnot in her arm. today, though, you notice a red rose peeking out of the mountain of food.

“what is this?” you pluck the rose out of the pile, before you realize that it is actually part of a bouquet.

“oh that?” helena puts the groceries back into the kitchen and pirouettes towards you, grabbing the rose away dramatically. “it’s a fan’s gift!”

“i don’t think suitors are called fans, big sis.”

“aah you silly! i was talking about you! it’s a gift for you!”

you must say you were shocked just then. “gift for me? from a fan?”

“that’s right! here.” she puts the entire bouquet into your unprepared hands, and you find your fingers too fragile to hold them. nearly.

“is that… a card there too?” you pick a lavender-colored piece of card out of the bouquet, and on it printed the words:

_dear miss white,_

_you don’t know me for sure, but i know you by your voice. my daughter has been listening a lot to your music, and even though you are not any big name singer or even popular on the net yet, but we have found your music, and in it we find peace. we are very thankful for the passion you possess in your voice and lyrics, and we hope that one day you will find widespread success._

you smile at the hastily-written scrawl. just the bouquet alone is already a lot, so you can’t help but appreciate that these admirers would go as far as writing a note for you too.

“so, how’s singing practice today?”

“it’s pretty good.” you are still smiling sillily at the card. “i bet i would get even better.”

and in that moment, you know you can for sure.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

“Are you sure this could work?”

The head researcher gives a resolute nod. “Absolutely. We have perfected the simulations over and over again.”

Helena looks back at the pod, into the empty face of the android inside. Operators is what they used to be called, though for this one Singer might be a better name. “The simulation—”

“While it might seem simplistic, please do trust us when we tell you that it has been refined to the most we can manage. It has all the perfect details etched in; the vague memories before the car crash that reinforces the belief that their singing is good, the car crash itself as vague as possible, and all the recovery process that tells them again singing is the best for them. Combining all these together, this will surely create the perfect singer superstar we need for this mission.”

Helena looks back at the android. The serene look she—it—has is so breathtakingly resplendent, one that is evidently sculpted to absolute perfection. It is all artificial. How sad.

“We are sending this girl to a war—”

“We are sending this android to a mission,” The head researcher replies coldly, unfeeling hands pressing the open button and lifting the hatch of the pod. “A mission we need to be done, and a mission we need _it_ to accomplish. We simply can't trust the humans for getting into Mono anymore.”

Helena looks away, as the android does rise from its pod amidst wisps of smoke, pearlescent exterior wreathed in starlit attires. Fit for a superstar. Fit for her in particular.

The head researcher whispers to it. “You know what you are fated for here. After this is done, our dreams can be achieved again. For now, you will have to live among them.” He points to Helena then, shocking the fake sister just a little bit. “Helena here is your big sister, and she will surely lead you to your fated stardom. This is your dream. This is the life you must live now.”

“Now, sing to the darkness.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Wait Misty, so what exactly is the mission? How did this explain anything?"
> 
> -shrugs- We will have to wait for Rayark's update!!... But for those who didn't get it; basically my interpretation is that PAFF is actually an old-timey Operator back from Cytus that gets these memories inserted in like those song-memories in order to become more human-like.
> 
> Damn, that would mean PAFF in the fic literally is made to be human and yet can't really be human... I made myself sad now, please will you excuse me (runs towards the tissue box)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!


End file.
